


Flags

by Rosie_Rues



Series: The Rising Storm [34]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 1996, Community: dogdaysofsummer, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-07-12
Updated: 2006-07-12
Packaged: 2017-10-22 19:20:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/241618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rosie_Rues/pseuds/Rosie_Rues
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>July 1996. European Quidditch Championships.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flags

Remus leant on the outside wall of the Pennycomequick Stadium and stared out at the moors. The afternoon was sliding into evening, and the slow sunlight washed the heath with gold. He could hear gulls wailing overhead, harsh and mournful, as if they had been shaped for grief, nothing but grief.

The wall was trembling against his back from the roars and applause of the supporters within. If he had closed his eyes, he could have traced England’s progress by the sensation of drumming heels and groans which drowned out the noise of the waves.

On the walls around him, the Falcons’ colours had been covered over with vast England flags. If England beat Spain today, they’d go forward into the quarter finals of the European Championship, and the home crowd were wild with excitement.

It was an obvious target, now the enemy were no longer trying to hide.

Dumbledore hadn’t wanted him to come, but he had insisted, very politely. He didn’t like the way people assumed he was broken. He’d been through this before, after all. Practice, supposedly, made perfect.

Three weeks ago he’d come back to Grimmauld Place, footsore and weary, to find Sirius swathing the parlour with flags. Remus, tired and bemused, had stood in the doorway and watched for a while. Sirius had been smiling, and humming to himself. Remus had recognised the tune as the Ballycastle Battle Hymn, and grinned.

“Hey,” he’d said.

Sirius had swung round, a flag the size of a sheet between his hands, and grinned back, “Moony!”

Despite his aching feet, and the inevitability of what was about to come, Remus had gone forward into the room. “What are you doing?”

“Decorating,” Sirius had said, stalking towards him with the flag. “European Championships start at the end of June. Thought we’d set the old wireless up. Have some of the lads round, y’know, few drinks.”

“Sounds good,” Remus had said, and decided not to dodge.

“Reckon,” Sirius had added, a little diffidently, “that we might be able to get Harry back by then. Doesn’t have to stay with those awful people very long, does he?”

Remus had raised his hands in a shrug. “You’re asking me to read Dumbledore’s mind?”

“No,” Sirius said gloomily, and wrapped the flag around Remus.

“Want me to get Molly on the case?” Remus had asked, shuffling closer so Sirius’ arms closed around his back.

“Probably won’t want to listen to it with me. Someone would probably get him tickets.”

“I shouldn’t think so,” Remus had replied automatically. “Harry’s not very popular with the Ministry right now. And even if he was, he would choose to listen to it with you.”

“D’you think?” Sirius had murmured, twisting the corner of the flag between his fingers.

“I know it.”

“Hmm,” Sirius had said, running a hand across Remus’ back.

“You going to let me out?”

Sirius had shaken his head, pressing a kiss under Remus’ ear. “Nope. Stick you to the wall. Lucky charm.”

“And how would you explain that to Harry?”

“Ancient wizarding tradition. Ex-teachers make the best totems.” He’d eyed a bare patch of wall thoughtfully.

Remus had snuggled close enough to poke his elbow against Sirius’ side. “Who will keep you warm at nights if I’m stuck to the wall?”

“It’s summer,” Sirius had said, but he had been grinning. “Too hot anyway.”

They had ended the afternoon tangled on the sofa, cocooned in nothing but the flag. Sirius had fallen asleep with the corner of it clasped in one hand, and Remus’ bare hip under the other. Remus had let him sleep, knowing how hard the nights could be. Now he wondered if that had been the right decision-

“Remus.”

He jumped, recalled to Falmouth. Tonks had appeared beside him, a flag knotted around her shoulders. Her hair was red and white, but the roots were brown.

“I’ve come to give you a break,” she said. She looked exhausted, shadows beneath her eyes.

“I don’t need one,” Remus said, surprised at how steady his voice was.

She looked at him thoughtfully, and he knew she was about to point out that he hadn’t even seen her coming. To his relief, she refrained and simply leant against the wall beside him. “Keep you company, then.”

“Thank you,” he said calmly, and went back to staring at the moors.

There was a sudden wave of noise from inside the stadium, shaking the walls with dismay. Over it all he could hear the commentator shouting, “And Madero has the Snitch! Madero has caught the Snitch! It’s all over for England! England are out of the cup!”

“Oh, shit,” Tonks said, lifting her fist to her mouth. “They could at least have won.” Then she burst into noisy tears.

Remus put an arm around her shoulders and stared at the clear sky as the wall shook at his back. He couldn’t remember how to cry.


End file.
